Red Line
by thefrackingimpala
Summary: Season 1 Winchesters- Dean gets hurt on Sam's watch and Sam blames himself and has alternate means of coping. Protective!Dean and Vunerable!Sam, and vice versa. Might have wincest of the sam and dean variety... WARNING: This fic contains self harm and mentions of abuse so be careful darlings :) M for language and smut to come
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is my first fic so i hope you like it- It's a bit dark and there are mentions of self harm and abuse throughout so if that's triggering to you, please don't hurt yourself! **

**Leave comments! Comments are my best friend! **

**I don't own Sam and Dean. Yet. Kripke has them captive but im working on it**

**tootles.**

The bathroom tile was cold on Sam's bare back as he laid sprawled out on the floor staring at the water stained drop ceiling of their shitty motel room bathroom. He could feel his shoulder blades digging into the hard linoleum surface as his rib cage painfully expanded and contracted back to normal. His back hurt. His legs hurt. Actually, all of Sam Winchester hurt. But he would never show it. Not to anyone. Winchesters didn't bitch about anything. They were the goddamn Winchesters for fucks sake. Sam kept this in mind as he forced himself up, propped on his elbows, then on to his feet with the help of the sink counter. He looked in the mirror and sighed, brushing his hair out of his face to reveal the damage done by the family's most recent outing. There was a medium depth gash at his right jawline, but with the acceptation of a few soon to be formed bruises right below his cheekbone, that seemed to be the worst of it. He opened the medicine cabinet and unscrewed the lid on a white plastic bottle of generic pain killers, pouring three into his hand and then swiftly into his mouth, swallowing them dry. He turned the bottle over in his palms for a few seconds before placing it back on the shelf of the medicine cabinet and swinging the mirrored door shut. Sam walked a few feet and started the shower.

Dean opened the motel mini fridge and crinkled his freckled nose, squinting his eyes as he pulled out the remaining contents of the fridge. There was some old Chinese takeout in a plastic bag of 'thank you's, as well as what was at one point a six pack of beer, now reduced to one solitary can. Dean opened the takeout box and immediately regretted doing so when the smell of rotten meat and something else that made him want to vomit smacked him in the face. He opened the trashcan with the foot pedal and threw the leftovers in, cracking open the beer as he did so.

"Sammy" said Dean between sips "We need to go shopping."

"Dad said he left an extra twenty under the mattress." called back Sam from the shower. "Said we could use it if we needed to."

Dean lifted up the mattress and sure enough, Sam wasn't lying.

"Whaddaya want?"

"Depends. Store or takeout?"

"Takeout duh I'm not cooking for your bitch ass" Dean cracked back.

"Umm… Isn't there a Chinese place a couple blocks from here?" Sam asked through the door. He turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel loosely around his waist. "I think I saw one on the way in."

"That'll work I'm fucking starving." Dean finished off the beer and crushed the can under his boot just for fun before tossing it in the trash. He rummaged through his duffle bag and pulled out his army green jacket, putting it over his shoulders as Sam opened the bathroom door and stepped out, hair wet and plastered to his forehead. Dean ran over to him and wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him in for a quick, but nonetheless deep kiss. He looked at his younger brother and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he un-twined them. "Back in a jiff" said Dean with a mock salute, shutting the door behind him.

Sam dropped his towel and quickly got dressed, his body shivering from the shock of leaving the warmth of the shower to enter the icebox that was the rest of the room. He had no idea why Dean liked it so cold. After putting on his favorite sweatpants (they were fleece lined, super heavy duty, dean had "gotten" them for him last Christmas) and his crew neck St. Louis Cardinals sweatshirt they had picked up at a gas station in Missouri, he plopped onto the couch. His long legs couldn't exactly fit in the length of the couch, so he ended up dangling them over the arm rest, his shoulders pressed firmly into the pillow that lay against the opposite end of the sofa. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned on the TV. He mindlessly flipped though the channels until he landed on a National Geographic documentary. He never really got to watch TV all that much- the luxury of it was not something that he was used to. He let out a deep, relaxed sigh and sank into the couch, enjoying the momentary bliss of doing nothing at all.

Sam eventually drifted off to a light sleep, which was cut short by a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his phone, stretching his limbs as he did so. He looked at the screen which brightly showed the name "Dean" on the caller ID. Sam hit the button with his thumb and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hullo?" Sam slurred, still waking up from his nap.

"Sa-" Dean was cut off.

"Dean? Dean what is it?" Sam snapped back into alert mode, jolting upright from the couch. "Dean! Dean answer me what's going on?"

"Sammy I ca-" Dean swallowed and whispered, "Sammy, I can't ta- come here. Fast."

Sam managed to put in one more frantic "DEAN!" before the line dropped out. Sam threw on his jacket and shoes and ran out the door, heading towards the restaurant that Dean had gone to. Dean had taken the impala so Sam was on foot, but he didn't have to run very far before he saw it. Terror ripped through Sam as he raced to his brother. _Or what's left of him._


	2. Chapter 2

**Leave comments! i love comments! comments love me! I love you! so comments love you! and you love comments! **

**once again i dont own the winchesters but im seriously so close... **

Sam knelt at Dean's side. Dean was sprawled on the sidewalk, completely immobile and unconscious. There was a gash on his temple, clearly put there intentionally by some opposing force, and his face was covered in scratches that looked to be from fingernails if Sam wasn't mistaken. His leg was bent at a painful angle, and the blood- there was so much blood. It seemed to come from nowhere. And from everywhere. Sam ripped Dean's jacket open and his breath hitched in his throat. Dean's grey shirt was seeped with maroon liquid, pooling around his lower waist near his left hipbone. Actually, Sam realized, that was where is was coming from._ No no no no no_ he repeated in his mind. _This can't happen. Not to you._ Sam reached his has to Dean's face, cupping his brother's left cheek in his hand, praying to some higher power that he would open his eyes.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" Sam screamed over and over, his throat going raw in the cold. Hot tears streamed down his face. He felt for Dean's pulse in his wrist- it was weak, but it was there. Thank god. Sam got out his phone and dialed 911. The paramedics arrived within 5 minutes, but those 5 minutes were the longest 5 minutes Sam had ever known. He took off his jacket and placed it on his brother, trying to keep the quickly retreating warmth inside. Sam took off his sweatshirt as well and applied it to the wound in Dean's abdomen, trying to ease the blood flow. Sam sat at Dean's vigil, clad in only a white t shirt and sweatpants as he waited for the paramedics. He kicked himself mentally._ If you hadn't taken so goddamn long to get here he might have been ok- If you had run a bit faster, you might have been able to save him…_ Sam clenched his fists as he watched Dean being lifted onto a white stretcher and placed in the back of the ambulance, his knuckles going white and his nails digging into his palms. He then demanded that they let him sit in the back with his brother. He climbed into the truck and grabbed hold of his brother's hand. The ambulance begin moving, sirens blaring as it raced down the road. The doctors were talking back and forth and attaching Dean to machines and bags of all sorts, jabbing needles into him and strapping him down. Sam, however, made no noise or movement. He couldn't. He held his brother's hand in his and squeezed gently, eyes glazed over with a blank expression for the remainder of the ride to the hospital._ Way to go, Sam._

When Dean's eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was Sam. He was sitting in a chair at the end of his bed him with a cup of coffee in his hand, his knee bouncing up and down in a jittery motion, almost anxiously. The moment he realized Dean was awake it stopped instantly. Sam leaped up from the chair and ran to Dean's side, relief and concern mingling across his face.

"Hey Dean." Sam said quietly, almost in a whisper.

"Hey Sammy." Dean replied back with a smile that quickly turned to a grimace as he reopened some of the cuts on his cheeks. His breath hitched and Sam heard it.

"Hey Dean take it easy ok?" Great job Sam. _Your brother can't even smile. What else are you going to fuck up today?_

"Do you need anything? Pain meds, food...?"

Dean nodded his head gingerly and opened his mouth to speak.

"Wait don't talk. Tap once for yes and twice for no. Pain pills?"

Dean tapped once.

"Food?"

One solitary tap.

"Ok. You're gonna have to eat something soft though. I'll go get the nurse." Sam's voice sounded raw.

Dean studied Sam's face for the split second it hung above him. Sam was smiling- of course he was. But it wasn't his smile. It was forced, and his chapped lips were breaking apart from it. His eyes were open wide, wider than they should have been, and the circles underneath were dark purple. Dean gathered from this that he hadn't slept in a while, relying on caffeine for his energy. _But exactly how long had it been?_

Dean found himself asking his own self that same question. What the fuck was he doing here? All he knew was that he hurt- all over. Especially by his left hip. He had a pounding headache as well. He tried to sit up, but that resulted in a new wave of pain. His left leg was abnormally heavy, as well as immobile. He peeled back the hospital sheets and observed the white cast that encased his leg, stretching from the bottom of his foot to the mid of his thigh. Dean took in a breath, which sharpened with the expansion of his rib cage. He let out a small moan. He couldn't move at all. _Fuck this. _

Sam rounded the corner with the nurse, a plump black woman who looked to be in her mid-forties, who placed a smoothie at Dean's bedside. She smiled at Dean, who tried to smile back.

"It's good to see you up, hon." she said as she emptied an eyedropper of clear liquid into Dean's IV bag. He eyed it warily.

"That's for the pain sweetheart. It should kick in in a few minutes." She smiled again. "I'm Donna. Just holler if you need anything at all babe." And with that she wobbled out of the room, leaving the brothers alone.

Sam let his eyes anxiously wander around the room before meeting Dean's. There was so much he wanted to say. _I'm so sorry- I should have been there sooner- I should have gone with you- I should have been faster- I should have protected you- this is all my fault- Dean I'm sorry- _

Dean twisted his body to pick up the smoothie by his bedside and let out a groan. He was one giant bruise. Sam immediately came to his vigil and grabbed the smoothie for him, placing the cup in his hand and the straw in his mouth. _God Dean, I'm so sorry…_

Dean sipped the smoothie with caution and thankfully found that it went down easily. He relaxed a bit as the pain meds came into action. Sam just stared at his brother. His body was stiff and rigid but he swayed on his feet. His eyes drooped and his breathing was too deep. Sam looked down at his hands, picking at the skin around his thumbs.

"Sammy." Dean's voice was hoarse.

"Dean, don't talk your face might open up again."

"And I would still be better looking than you" Dean quipped back, a smile playing across his lips. Quickly his expression faded and he grasped a more serious tone. "Sammy, how long has it been since you slept."

Sam twiddled his thumbs and looked down at the floor. "Not that long Dean. I'm fine." He breathed in. "You're the one who needs to sleep."

"Sam I've been lying unconscious in a hospital bed for god knows how long. You, on the other hand, look like shit." Dean said it in a humorous manner, but he meant it. Sam looked awful. He looked dead. Or pretty damn close to it.

"Dean, I'm fine. You just woke up. You're hurt and I need to be here in case you need anything."_ It's the least you can do_ Sam thought to himself. _It's your fault he's here anyway. You were too fucking slow to get there in time so this is your fucking problem. Your brother was stabbed and left for dead because of you. You don't deserve to sleep. Not until Dean is better._ Sam raised his gaze to meet Dean's. Dean's eyes were wide with concern which made Sam feel even worse. He shouldn't be the concerned one.

"Sammy, I want you to sleep."

"Dean how many times do I have to tell you?! I'm fine!" Sam snapped, a bit too loudly. The lack of sleep was fucking up his emotions.

"Please Sam. The nurse can help me if I really need anything. And I won't need anything. I'm completely good." Dean looked at Sam, his green eyes pleading. "It would make me feel a lot better if you did."

Sam sighed. He was tired and he knew it. It had been a solid 24 hours since he had found Dean. _He had found dean mangled and unconscious. Because of him._ But if it would make Dean feel better… Sam sighed and gave in, plopping down on the chair beside Deans bed. "Seriously though. If you need anything at all wake me up."

"Whatever, bitch."

"Jerk."

And with that Sam was out.

Sam slept peacefully for a solid 4 hours until the soft touch of the nurse's hand on his shoulder woke him. He rolled his eyes over to make contact, still groggy from his mini-night's sleep.

"Whaddisit?" Sam said as he straightened up in the chair, stretching his long legs that had fallen asleep underneath him. "Is Dean ok?"

"Yes hon, he's fine. You have a visitor though."

A visitor? Sam looked to Dean to see his reaction only to find that his brother was sound asleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept. His mouth and jaw were relaxed and his body was soft and limp, sinking into the bed. Sam smiled with remorse, realizing that the moment Dean woke up, he would be in pain again. He hoped he didn't wake up anytime soon.

"Who is it?" Sam asked the nurse, although he already knew. His stomach dropped as she confirmed his assumptions. _God he's gonna kick my ass._

"Sam." said a voice from beside the door. It was low and gruff and raspy and all too familiar to Sam.

"Yes sir." Sam turned around to face his father who was leaning with his right shoulder against the door frame.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sam and Dean still aren't mine *one solitary Ackles tear* **

"I'll- I'll leave you two to it then." The nurse walked out at a quicker pace than usual. Sam sensed the fear in her voice, and also in his own.

John Winchester looked his younger son up and down, eyes occasionally flickering over to his eldest, still asleep on the bed. His gaze tore Sam apart, disappointment and rage radiating. He walked a few more feet towards Sam, who could already smell the strong stench of whiskey on his father's breath.

"I don't want to wake your brother. Come outside, boy."

Sam replied instantly with a quiet and fearful "yes sir" and followed his father out of the room into the currently empty hallway of the ICU.

Before Sam could even look up, a strong fist collided with the side of his skull, sending him stumbling backwards.

"What the HELL happened, Sam? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO DEAN?" John grabbed Sam by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, the smell of whiskey making it even harder for Sam to catch his breath.

"I- I don't know I wasn't- I wasn't th-" Sam's head hit hard against the hospital wall as his father hit him square in the jaw.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU WEREN'T THERE BOY?" He held Sam tight and lowered his voice to a growl. "I leave you alone for 3 days and you still somehow manage to fuck everything up. I asked one goddamn thing of you and you failed." He breathed heavily, eyes piercing into Sam's.

"I-I know. I messed up I'm sorry sir I-" Another shove into the wall.

"SORRY? YOUR BROTHER IS LYING IN THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT UNABLE TO MOVE AND YOU'RE **_SORRY_**?" John looked around to see if anyone was coming before he hit Sam again, this time drawing blood from his cheekbone. Tears formed in the corners of Sam's eyes and slid down his cheek before they were quickly wiped away by his sleeve. John glared at him.

"You do realized your brother could have died."

"Yes, sir."

John dropped Sam's now stretched out collar quickly as a nurse rounded the corner. He leaned over to Sam and slurred into his ear.

"I'm going to the bar down the street. Try not to fuck anything else up." And with that he left, taking the stench of the alcohol with him. Sam breathed in, finally able to fill his lungs again, but his exhale was wet and shaky. He put his head down and raced to the bathroom, turning to face the mirror.

_You stupid little shit_ he thought._ Your brother could have died. If it were the other way around- hell, it would never be the other way around. Because Dean would have gotten there in time. Because Dean trains. And Dean doesn't fuck up like you do._ Sam stared into his reflection and took in a staggered gulp of air. He turned on the sink and splashed his face with the cold water in an attempt to wake up a bit, clear his mind- all it did was sting the cuts on his cheek. _You deserved it._ The newly forming bruises hurt and Sam was sure that his eye would go black eventually. The cut along his jawline from the previous hunt had reopened, and his body ached now more than ever. He was cold, he was hungry, and he was tired. But he wouldn't show it. Because he was a goddamn Winchester for fuck's sake. And Winchesters didn't bitch about anything. _Dean sure as hell doesn't. You literally almost got him killed and he __**smiled**__ at you when he woke up. He fucking __**smiled.**__ You definitely didn't deserve that, after what you let happen to hi-_

" I fucking know, okay?!" Sam's voice echoed throughout the empty bathroom. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He stayed silent. In fact, everything stayed silent. Suddenly he could hear the buzz of the hospital, people being moved on gurneys and walking down the hallways, scrubs brushing against themselves, doors opening and closing… Sam unclenched his fists, confused. _You little piece of shit. Dean would die for you in a second and you can't even ru-_ Sam clenched his fist again, and all was quiet, except for the hustle and bustle of the ICU. He stood there, clenching and un-clenching his fist, staring at it, for a solid 3 minutes, watching as the world around him faded and came back into view over and over, his mind screaming one second and silent the next. He realized that it wasn't his hand that was doing the magic, but the pain. He was confused, however, because his entire body had been hurting for the past 3 days since the hunt. His new found bruises and cuts on his face hurt too. Why didn't they have the same effect? What was different about them?

"I didn't do them myself." he thought out loud, fists still clenched. It had to be put there for that purpose apparently. Or inflicted with his own two hands.

He couldn't keep his hands balled for his entire life he realized. He tried letting them go, hoping that this prolonged experience maybe had a longer half-life. All was quiet in his mind for about 20 seconds afterwards, but he could feel the noise slowly squirming its way back into his head. He squeezed again._ I need something else_ he thought to himself. His nails in his palms weren't exactly doing the job. He reached into his right pocket of his sweatpants and felt around for his knife which he always kept with him, as did Dean. He normally made fun of Dean for carrying it around everywhere, but in light of current events, he felt that maybe his brother had been right. He flipped open the blade which reflected silver under the florescent lights of the bathroom. He held out his hand. Placing the point of the knife right underneath the butt of his palm, he drew a fine line. One, small little horizontal line at the base of his wrist. Beads of blood formed as the skin was pulled apart by the blade. It didn't exactly hurt a lot, especially compared to what Sam had experienced before, but it was enough for him to feel it. In fact, it was all he could feel. The world around him came back into play as he pulled his sleeve back over his forearm, hiding the injury from view. It was loud, but his mind was silent. He took a deep breath and composed himself before walking back down the corridor to find a thankfully still sleeping Dean tucked warmly into a white hospital bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ahh I am so sorry this took so long to put up! I was on a college visit to Belmont (which is the absolute shit i want to go there so badly but it's extreeeemely expensive so i have to get scholarships) but enough about me. I hope you all had a super spoopy halloween. And it's november. like what the fuck. Merry Christmas ya filthy animal.**

**Also, thank all of you so much for the follows! over 300 people have read this and that's more than i ever could have hoped. I never thought anyone would read it to be honest. but you guys are the best. so from the bottom of my heart, thank you. **

**I don't own Sam and Dean. Trust me, if i did, you would know. **

There were two chairs in the hospital room: one directly to the right of Dean, and one in the far right corner of the room. Both of them were completely the same in every aspect. They were both red, plastic, and had a slightly concave seat with a back to match. Sam Winchester chose the one in the far corner to sleep in. Why? For a good fucking reason.

Because when Dean woke up, he would be in pain. And he would want to talk. He would be confused. He would want answers. He would want to know. And he would deserve to know. And Sam didn't have answers. Sam didn't know. All Sam knew was that he was the reason for Dean being there, and the last thing Dean needed was to have to fake another smile and put up another fucking wall and pretend that everything was ok when it wasn't. And Sam himself was a shit load of crazy at the moment which made him another thing Dean didn't need to deal with. So Sam took himself as far away as he could, praying that all of his insanity would stay gone so he could at least sleep and sending up an extra prayer that when it returned (he knew it would), it would stay the hell away from his brother.

Sam let out a long, drawn out yawn, breathing in the scent of rubbing alcohol and latex as he walked towards the chair in the corner. He plopped down, lanky limbs sprawled out in every direction. His head leaned back against the wall and it fell to the right slowly as he drifted off to sleep with his arm cradled in his other. It was a fitful sleep, but it was sleep nonetheless and Sam's body was thankful and took what it could get.

** XXXXX**

Dean didn't exactly know where he was. The tan concrete underneath him was cracked with weeds, and the air around him was crisp. He was walking down a sidewalk that was dangerously close to the open road. He had bags in his hands- heavy, warm plastic bags that gave off a pleasant aroma. Dean subconsciously reached into his pocket and took out his keys, walking towards a parking lot at the end of the block. His cheeks were blushed and his nose and ears were numb as he set the bag of takeout on the roof of the Impala, manually unlocking the driver's side door with the key. Grabbing the handle of the bag, he threw the food at the foot of the passenger seat and in one swift motion he was in the car. Then he was on the ground. Then he reached for his knife. Then there were hands _all over_. And his side, his side was on fire. He screamed for help and his vision started fading. Saying he was fucking terrified would be putting it lightly. Then the scene shifted. He was back by the impala and all he could see was yellow. And red. Yellow and red eyes. He swiftly grabbed his phone and dialed Sam's number and tried to keep cool, tried to act like he didn't notice, tried to make the shadows around him still think he was oblivious. "Sa- Sam, I can't ta- Come here. Fast." And that's how he got on the ground. And got a white hot knife in his hip. And screamed. And woke up.

When Dean woke up he was still screaming, his breath was coming out hard and fast and wet, getting caught in his throat. His forehead broke out into a cold sweat. His jerky movement caused a ripple of pain to flood through his still tender body, enlisting another moan from the depths of his throat. All at the same time, Sam bolted awake and rushed to his older brother's vigil. Dean's eyes were glassed over and his breathing was irregular and Sam was scared.

"Dean, hey- Dean-" Sam placed a hand onto the side of Dean's sweat covered face, cradling in like he did when he had found him. The parallels were terrifyingly obvious to Sam, but he placed it at the back of his mind. "Dean- you're ok. I've got you. You're ok."

As Dean's breathing slowly returned to normal, he began shivering. Convulsing, more like it. Sam was still unsure as to what had truly happened, but he had a hunch. Having studied a small amount of psychiatry in school, he knew that this behavior was most likely the result of a flashback, in Dean's case, in the form of a dream. Dean hadn't remembered anything at all when he had woken up at first, but the memories were coming back and Dean was literally going into shock. He fit the criteria perfectly, and Sam started getting concerned because he hadn't even thought about the possibility of Dean having Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Dean had seen a lot of shit in his time, but Sam had never seen him act like this. He cradled his brother's head in his arms, his hand placed on his back reassuringly, bringing him as close to his own body as possible. Dean remained silent. Sam didn't say a word as his brother's shoulders shook, bobbing up and down. He was sobbing- silently, but that didn't mean it was any less bad. Dean never cried, at least not in front of Sam. Sam buried his head into the crook of Dean's neck, his hands doing all the comforting they were capable of. His thumb moved back and forth over Dean's lower back and the other was at the nape of Dean's neck. _Dean used to hold me like this_ Sam thought. Whenever he would get upset and cry (which happened quite often when he was younger) his brother would hold him. He would just hold him, and not say anything. He could comfort him without saying a word, just with his presence and embrace. Dean had done that more times than he could count. Sam tried his best to return the favor. _After all, Dean deserves it more than you ever did._

Slowly Dean fell back asleep in Sam's arms. Sam didn't dare move, regardless of the fact that his leg was asleep and his back was at an uncomfortable angle. He held Dean all through the night, not sleeping at all, keeping watch over his brother. All of the crazy thoughts that had been flooding his mind earlier were gone. There was just him and Dean. A cracked, broken Dean Winchester and his brother who would do whatever the fuck it took to keep him safe. Dean would have done the same for him. It was the least he could do. So he stayed. He stayed put at the side of his brother's bed and let him sleep. Sam could never completely repay Dean for everything he had sacrificed for him, but damn it, he would try.

Dean awoke, still wrapped in his younger brother's arms. "Hey Sammy." he said as he pulled back to meet Sam's eyes. Sam's bruised, cut, swollen eyes. Sam watched the greener than green turn dark and scared. _Shit. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Guys I AM SO SORRY I AM SO BAD AT UPDATING. ive been on college visits for the past two weeks and i had no wifi/time to write so i genuinely apologize. But thank you all for reading! seriously, it means a lot. I love writing this, and the fact that other people are liking it too makes me all fuzzy :) Leave comments and i will love you forever. Also, if you find any errors, please tell me because i am not exactly good at finding them. also i needed to add wincest. i was deprived. it's been so long.**

**ALSO IS ANYONE ELSE EXCITED FOR PADABABY 2.0? my fandom is responsible for two babies. Proud mama.**

**I OWN SAM AND DEAN. NO I DON'T JUST KIDDING. **

"Sammy what happened to you." Dean said in a whisper, like the words were refusing to form. His face flooded with confusion and worry formed lines at his brow. His eyes went big and glassy, but not as big and glassy as Sam's. His face went phantom.

"What do you mean…?"

"Your face" Dean breathed. "It's bleeding. And your eye is swollen."

"Umm.. Yeah Dean these were- I've had these since the last hunt we went on- I guess the bruises took a while to form…" Sam tried to keep a relaxed composure. If there was one thing the Winchesters were flawless at, it was lying, but Sam realized he was technically attempting to con a conman. He and Dean knew all the signs of a liar inside and out: stutters, nerves, over exaggeration of details- so Sam kept himself firm in his footing and slapped on a smile. "I guess I must have scratched my jaw in my sleep." he stated confidently, praying that his brother would believe his bullshit and drop the subject.

"Well it's bleeding pretty badly. You might want to get it fixed up before you go in public again because it is not making you look any more attractive especially next to me." Dean quipped, a smile turning up at the corners of his mouth. "I'll call the nurse. Get me the phone."

"Not with that attitude." Sam sassed.

"Fine. Please get me the phone. Bitch."

"Go fuck yourself. Jerk." Sam pushed himself up off of the bed after he and Dean untangled themselves. He picked up the manila chorded phone from the table and handed it to Dean. Dean dialed the number and asked for Donna, giving her a brief summary of his reason for calling. Then he hung up. He handed the phone back to Sam who placed it on the wooden side table.

Dean relaxed back into the bed slowly, making sure that his bruise of a body went down gingerly. A small groan emitted from his lips as his head sunk into the pillow. He looked up at his brother who was smiling back at him, winning a bright white grin from Dean. Dean loved his baby brother's smile. It was warm and genuine; he loved how his bubblegum pink lips curled back at the edges and how the white was so bright in contrast to his honey colored skin and how his canine teeth were slightly pointed and how his tongue would swipe across them when he was deep in thought and-

"Sam." Dean whispered. He brushed his hand over his brother's. Sam's attention was automatically earned with the sudden touch, and it remained because of the look in Dean's eyes. That look was one Sam knew well, but never too well. He could never get tired of that look. Somehow Dean managed to convey the polar opposite emotions of love and lust at the same time. His eyes stormed over and Sam's breath caught in his throat. Memories of previous nights slipped into his mind and he didn't try to stop them. _Fuck, Dean-_

The wooden door creaked open and Donna waddled into the room, breaking Sam's train of thought which was probably for the best- it was starting to show below the belt. Dean let out a small sigh in disappointment, but not loud enough for anyone but Sam to hear. His eyes flickered from Donna back to Sam. _Later._

The nurse faced Sam and held out her hand at his jawline, lifting his head gingerly. "Hey hon- ooh darling you better get that stitched up. Your brother wasn't kidding when he said it looked bad." Her attention was now directed towards Dean. "And how are you babe? Are the painkillers still working?" Dean nodded his head.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"No problem honey. Now Sam- it's Sam right? You're gonna need a few stitches if you don't want to have an ugly scar for the rest of your life. But it'll only take a few minutes. Should heal up real nicely. Quickly, too." Sam smiled.

"No problem, sounds good."

"Great." she said with a grin. "I'll go get the doctor. I'll come get you when he's ready." And with that Donna left the room, shutting the wooden door behind her. Half a second passed before Sam crashed his lips down on Dean's and Dean whimpered into Sam's mouth. Urgent didn't even begin to describe it. He let his tongue slip over Sam's bottom lip as he took it between his own two. Sam then let his own tongue find its way into Dean's mouth, exploring the soft, silken skin on the inside hungrily. He found Dean's bottom lip lightly bit down, pulling backwards, letting his teeth rake it.

"God damn it, Sammy." Dean breathed. "It's been way too long-"

Sam cut him off harshly with his mouth. That was one thing on the long list of many things that Dean loved about Sam; he was innocent and soft and emotional, but put him in the bedroom and it's rough primal instinct like he's never seen.

"Jesus, Dean- you have no idea how badly I just want to rip everything off you right now and just-"

Dean replied back instantly and for the next 30 seconds everything was hot and wet and teeth and tongue and Sam and Dean. Footsteps started down the hall and when Sam picked up on them he reluctantly broke away. _God, I can't wait until you're better-_

Donna strode into the room, not even bothering to knock. She was too busy scribbling away on her clip board.

"Alright, Sam, the doctor is ready for you. Your room is right down the hallway. 221b." She pointed to her left, indicating the route. "It should take all of 15 minutes, at the most. Oh, and-" she paused and looked back behind her before whispering "Your visitor is back." Dean shot Sam a look of confusion as Donna exited.

"Visitor? Who visited me?"

"Um, yeah Dad came by." Sam mentally cringed. _Dammit, he's back already?_ "But you were asleep. He didn't want to wake you so he said he's come back later. I guess now is later." Sam bit his lip worriedly. His eyes filled with fear and he looked away because he didn't want Dean to see him. Dean was still sick and Sam hadn't forgot that, and the last thing he wanted was for his brother to know what had actually happened the last time their father had come by. _Well, he had all right to be angry at you. You're the one who fucked up. You're the one who let him go alone. You're the reason Dean is here-_ Sam's fingers brushed the thin red line at the base of his wrist. _Oh and that Post Traumatic Stress shit? That's your fault too._ He pressed down, willing the thoughts to go away and when they didn't, he dug his nails into the newly formed scab, drawing a bead of blood. The voices were still there, but they were much quieter than before. He was going to have to talk to Dean about that dream he had but right now it seemed to be the last thing on Dean's mind and Sam did not want to be responsible for opening another wound. He looked at Dean and smiled and Dean smiled back, genuine and soft. His eyes crinkled at the sides. Sam faced forward again and walked down the hallway towards his room.

The moment his brother left Dean's face dropped. Dean knew Sam inside and out, backwards and forwards, so he trusted his intuition when it came to him. And his intuition gave him a sinking feeling in his gut. Something was wrong. _Dammit Sammy. What the hell is going on_.


End file.
